


All the World's A Stage

by Nercoma666



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare, Romeo x Juliet (Anime)
Genre: Big Brothers, Brother-Sister Relationships, Brotherly Affection, F/M, Gen, Historical Accuracy, Historical Fantasy, Historical Inaccuracy, Historical References, Male-Female Friendship, Multi, Other, Period-Typical Sexism, Protective Older Brothers, Sexism, Sexist Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:06:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29419116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nercoma666/pseuds/Nercoma666
Summary: Oneshots of my world of Neo Verona.Warnings: abuse, sexism, prostitution, alcoholism, drug abuse, etc.
Relationships: Cordelia/Benvolio di Frescobaldi, Hermione Borromeo/Tybalt Volumnia de Capulet, Juliet Capulet/Romeo Montague, Mercutio/Romeo Montague





	All the World's A Stage

The crowd pushed at the barricade, forcing the soldiers back, only for the hardy men to return what they received.

Tybalt watched from afar, keeping his steed reined in. It started as a simple dispute. A merchant and a farmer were haggling over a basket of fruit. A few guards tried to settle it peacefully, only for some stray rocks to hit their mark. They drew blood, which drew blades, which led to the mayhem, which took over the entire street.

A haor Dragon Steed flew over the uproar, with a familiar figure astride upon it.

Tybalt frowned.

This was no place for Benvolio. The poor, temperate, foolish boy who tried to do the best he could.

"Put up your swords!" Benvolio commanded. A few men looked up,"Put up your swords. You know not what you do." A few rocks entered the air, nearly striking the gentleman before he had the sense to rear up. He continued in vain.

"What!" An outraged voice called out. "Are you drawn among these heartless hinds? Turn about, coward! Look upon your demise!" Tybalt reared up on his mount. It was going to be bloody.

"I do but keep the peace." Benvolio grasped the handle of his sword. "Put up you sword," he reared up on his steed. "Or manage it to part these men with me."

Tybalt's scowl deepened. He turned to the riot, spurring his black steed into the air. Benvolio only sighed and followed in route. He wasn't surprised to find Tybalt at the scene, but more surprised that he was able to find the young man. It was an unspoken rumor that Tybalt had connections to the more sordid places of society. The shadows were his home, but no other person would find the door.

He wasn't worried about Tybalt's rare bouts of rage, no matter how destructive the man could be. He was more worried about Montague's ire. Whenever Tybalt erred, it was hell for poor boy. When the boy was in pain, it would fall on his sister.

Benvolio cringed at the thought.

Rosaline was a good girl, but she was unfortunate enough to be the only legitimate Montague heir. She was the one who bore the brunt of her father's fire and her brother's ice. She loved Tybalt as any good sister should, and his animosity towards Montague never extended to his daughter. But there was a wall between them that had not path or method to break it. Any good word between the two youths could be blown in the air, with no remnants of the joy those very words once held. Benvolio was sure it wasn't intentional, perhaps Tybalt didn't even know he was doing it, but he could see the pain it brought on them.

Benvolio often wondered why Tybalt was even kept in the palace. Not that he wasn't grateful for the companionship, and Rosaline held similar sentiments, but Montague rarely acknowledged the boy as his own. In spite of their uncanny resemblance, there was something simmering between them, even the innocent Hermione understood this.

"You seem lost, Lord Fresco Baldi." The young lord looked up. "Is something amiss?"

"No, my friend." He forced a smile upon his face. "I was worried about you."

Tybalt didn't respond.

\---

Rosaline stayed with Benvolio in the stables, lips pressed into a firm line as she tended to two Dragon Horses. When the gentlemen landed, Tybalt was escorted to the Grand Duke's cabinet. She knew of her father's rage, but her brother was far more familiar with it.

Cielo shook his head, snorting at her. She stroked his mane, pacifying him. Her brother's sullen steed nudged her, begging for the same affection. She happily obliged.

The doors swung open, slamming against the walls with a resounding crack. Her brother stormed in, half of his face was purple and swollen. His face held the same scowl as always, but his eyes shone with unspoken fury.

He ignored his sister's presence, heading towards a small barrel used for collecting rain. He plashed the water onto his face, wincing at the temperature shock on his face. He shook droplets from his face, resuming to clean his face

"Brother?" Rosaline took a bold step forward. "Is everything -" He grabbed her arm, just as she was about to touch his face.

Benvolio winced. It would surely leave marks by the morning.

As quickly as the storm came, Tybalt seemed to catch himself.

"Little sister," he released the poor lady. "Don't you have something better to do?" he turned back to his chore as his sister soothed her wrist.

\---

Tybalt held up the tarnished looking glass. He pressed to fingers to it, wincing. It was still hard to the touch, and even harder to look at. The swelling was down, but there was no mistaking it for what it was.

He sighed, setting the glass aside. He was exhausted from the latest squabble of the commonfolk and of Montague's meeting. His encounter with his sister left him exhausted. He loved her, no doubt, but he could see Montague. Even at her best, she still had her father's essence, and often, that was all he could see in her.

He groaned, rubbing at his face with his hands. He never should have touched her. He was in pain, and he only gave her more pain than he got. She had a good heart, but she never had a good sense of time. It made things even harder for the both of them.

He never remembered leaving his chambers, nor did he recall entering his sister's. He found her feigning slumber, as if he did not hear her shutting the book and blowing out the candles. Her arms were thrown about, one of which caught his eyes.

The swelling had gone down, more yellow that purple, but there was no mistaking it for what it was.


End file.
